


Bloodied, but Unbowed

by BlackKite7



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff, High Fantasy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Build, Sword Fighting, a lot of people from the series are going to appear, also includes a vague idea of oikawa's older brother, eventual angst and also eventual smut, magic involved, oikawa and iwaizumi are princes and are in for the fight of their lives, prince AU, tags to be updated with more characters/pairings with new chapters, there's magic and drama and bloodshed to be had
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKite7/pseuds/BlackKite7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime are the crowned princes of Aobajousai, and all their lives have never known what it means to fight for what you hold dear. A lust for revenge takes them on a journey to beat back against the strongest of the strong, but risk losing themselves to a danger lurking closer to home than they'd thought possible.</p><p>To get a general vibe of what the story will pertain to, take a peek at the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley.</p><p> <b>The tags will be updated with characters, pairings, summary tags and potential warnings as the story progresses.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited at Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaneki_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaneki_coffee/gifts).



> First and foremost: as Oikawa has a nephew, I've also included Oikawa's elder brother as a character to fill certain roles to help with how the story will progress. And I actually don't think I have much more to say here, other than to say enjoy an entirely self-indulgent Prince AU dedicated to kaneki_coffee who thinks they can get away with writing an entire fic premise in tags.
> 
> So...go on and suffer in your jocks I guess!

An exasperated sigh parted Oikawa’s lips as he hid within the arched alcoves of the ballroom, where the shadows were thickest and he could take a moment to catch his breath. A white-gloved hand reached up to gently rub the corners of his mouth, now aching from having upheld a smile for so long, and he glowered slightly at the throng of guests mingling through the elaborately decorated hall. He knew there had been many invitations sent out, but he had hoped for a quiet celebration of a sort, though he was usually partial to such parties himself.

Oikawa knew that the idea of a masquerade ball had been the King’s influence. After all, the return of the Southern Prince was a momentous occasion. Successes in far reaching statehoods meant that the nation of Aobajousai was extending, allowing for both the northern and southern principalities to broaden their horizons – quite literally, with the recent conquests.

Even so…Oikawa had yet to find him. Guests that arrived for the celebration had their identities confirmed at the gates of the castle, but once inside, they were utterly anonymous until announcing themselves one way or another. Knowing him, he doubted that he’d have made a grandiose entrance, and if he had, Oikawa would surely have noticed it. Oikawa had spent much of his time almost stalking the ballroom looking for his childhood friend, but to no avail. There were simply far too many people, and Oikawa had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that wherever he went, his friend was slipping away further into the crowd, or was moving in the corner of his eye, only to disappear when he turned his head.

It had been almost two years since Oikawa had last seen Iwaizumi, the crowned prince of Aobajousai’s southern region. He still remembered standing on the hillside of a vast valley, glaring against the sunlight whilst watching the floral white and teal banners disappear over the horizon, uncertain in his gut how long it would be until he would see them return.

Sure, he had received the occasional letter – but they were mostly business. Simply updates about the status of far-away conquests and discoveries, and they had never been explicitly addressed to him. Oikawa could not help but wonder about what might have happened to his friend in the last two years. Had whatever battles he had fought in been easily won, or had he come away with bloodied, dinted armour and raw wounds that left him with scars? Would the things he had seen, and perhaps done, change him, inward and without?

Oikawa swallowed hard that the thought of his friend no longer being who he knew. He was having a hard enough time trying to think of what he would say, even though his mind had been searching for the words for hours at that point. So much had happened, and yet so very little, without him.

“Tooru.” A voice as smooth as silk whispered by Oikawa’s ear, causing the young prince to jolt and hunch towards a pillar in the archway. He instinctively held a hand to his ear, glaring over his shoulder at the culprit.

“Akio…” Oikawa grumbled his name. “Oh, I beg pardon. _Your majesty._ ”

A light-hearted chuckle filled the silence between them as Oikawa’s elder brother shook with laughter. A smug grin tugged at the corners of his lips, the dark brown eyes they shared long lashed and half lidded with a teasing air about them. Oikawa’s elder brother had inherited his title from their father – the previous king, a wizened old man who was now enjoying his senior years with their mother in the south – after he had been stricken will illness, and unable to rule effectively. Akio had proven himself worthy of the title, and after his marriage, had been crowned and exalted for his hard work. Oikawa had no such qualms about it – he knew his brother was capable, and he wished no ill upon him or his title. It simply annoyed him how much his brother abused his power to tease him at times.

“Hush now, little brother.” Akio lifted his hands to adjust the mask hiding Oikawa’s face. A half-mask that covered his forehead, white and adorned with glittering crystals, it was a great contrast to his dark eyes and hair. “Care to tell me why you’re hiding from our esteemed guests? Don’t tell me you want to run away before the night has even begun.”

“Of course not.” Oikawa retorted quickly, tilting his head out of Akio’s hands and pouting at him. “Am I not allowed a moment to rest?”

“You say that, but it seems to me more like you’re hiding over here.”

“I am not.”

“Lost your nerve, perhaps? And you were so excited to see Iwaizumi again…”

“Don’t act like I’m not! I…it’s simply too hard to find him in this crowd.” Oikawa huffed and looked away from his grinning brother to stare at the crowd in question. The chattering of so many nobles and aristocrats all but drowned out the music that echoed in the hall, if only just. How on earth was Oikawa supposed to find him in _that_?

“Oh? But I spoke with him a few moments ago, actually.” Akio’s grin was cunning and sly, and Oikawa glared at him slightly from under his mask. “He seems to have matured nicely. He’s become a fine man.”

“Meaning to say I haven’t?” Oikawa all but hissed the words as he glowered at Akio, whose smug grin only seemed to widen.

“Maybe if you stopped hiding, I wouldn’t think so.” Akio hummed softly as he patted Oikawa’s shoulders, brushing them slightly as he adjusted the formal overcoat he wore, decorated with golden embroidery and a jewelled brooch in the shape of a vined plant. Quickly, he spun him around and was gently pushing him back into the main section of the ballroom. “Now, off you go!”

Oikawa had to quickly gather himself as Akio all but shoved him back into the abundant candlelight of the hall, the flickering flames gleaming off the marble walls and tiled floor. When Oikawa turned around to glare at his brother once more, the taller gentlemen was pleasantly waving at him with a cheerful, encouraging smile, and he could not bring himself to be mad at him for too long.

Setting his brother out of his mind, Oikawa busied himself and began to wander the ballroom, looking around in search of a familiar face – though it was almost impossible with the elegant masks that the guests were wearing. Oikawa cursed under his breath, wondering what ever had possessed _his majesty_ to host a masquerade ball. Why couldn’t it just have been a simple celebration? It was beginning to annoy him, as he aimlessly sauntered about, greeting guests with a false smile as he passed. Although one advantage of an event of this nature was that he didn’t have to worry so much about himself. His face was a recognisable one, and while some had noticed and greeted him properly with the respect befitting his status, it was refreshing to be just another person within the crowd.

Although as time went on, he became increasingly tempted to abuse his power and demand that someone reveal to him where Iwaizumi was tucked away. The more time he lingered in groups of unfamiliar faces chatting absentmindedly about the celebration, the more his smile fractured and faltered, until he was left with an almost childish pout on his face.

A figure approaching from the side caught his eye, and turning, he saw someone walking towards him with intent. Oikawa recognised him immediately, having spent much time that morning picking out a suitable mask for him to wear. Matsukawa Issei, with his dishevelled hair and toothy grin, was walking towards him with a speedy gait, clearly intent on causing him some kind of grief. Without a second thought, Oikawa turned to the person closest to him – a young woman in a flowing gown, with long hair and a delicate frame – and asked her to dance. He had absolutely no intent to give Matsukawa cause to bully him tonight. Not with his mood souring by the second.

The lady happily agreed, cheeks flushing red as Oikawa took her hand and escorted her to the space allocated for dancers – and away from Matsukawa. Oikawa’s body moved autonomously of his mind from the moment they reached a position on the dance floor. He bowed his head to her, and rose when she curtseyed. He took her hand and held her waist and began to lead the dance, staring vacantly just over her shoulder. Oikawa was thankful she seemed too embarrassed to look up at him – perhaps knowing who he was – or she would have seen how he was not giving her his full attention.

Nor was he aware of the way Matsukawa had mingled his way onto the dance floor, his grin just as sly as before as his eyes flicked to a person behind Oikawa, dancing with his own partner. A young man with short, light brown hair and mischievous dark eyes nodded to him; both ready to spring their trap.

As the music flowed and the dancers moved as a single unit, twisting and twirling around in an elegant trance, people readied to pass on their dance partner to another as per the usual routine. As Oikawa shifted to pass on his partner to a dancer nearby, Matsukawa and his accomplice, Hanamaki Takahiro, quickly intercepted him. They had all but abandoned their partners as Hanamaki took Oikawa’s partner by the hand and carefully removed her from the floor, just as Matsukawa grabbed Oikawa and shoved him in another direction all together.

Honestly, if he hadn’t been friends with the two of them since they were young, Oikawa would have them exiled for pulling such stunts.

Especially when the result of being pushed across the floor landed him in the vacant spot of a dancer whom had moved on, leaving before him a stunned and confused man. Oikawa was quick to ready an apology for the behaviour of his friends – and silently wondering what kind of punishment he could give them – but the words died on his lips, and he froze, staring into hazel eyes he knew so well. Oikawa had never really known what colour his eyes were. Under a mask with gold embroidered into the rim were dark hazel brown eyes, and yet there were such vivid flecks of green through the iris that Oikawa could not be certain of their true colour. When they had been children, they would shine brightly in excitement. But now, that excitement was subdued – there, but tamed somewhat. Not only that, but the man himself was broader, taller even, though still shorter than Oikawa was. He wore simple but formal vestments; much in the same fashion as Oikawa himself, white and with elaborate spiralling details on the cuffs and collar, and flowing overcoat that would move in accordance with any step they made.

Iwaizumi looked just as regal as ever; just as handsome, just as…well, himself. Only a little different; a little older, a little wiser, perhaps.

The guests lining the dancing area turned their heads to look at the two of them – the two Princes of Aobajousai – standing amidst the other dancers, confused and startled.

Until Iwaizumi, very calmly and without reservation, took a step back and bowed his head while crossing one arm in front of his chest and the other behind his back.

“Shall we dance, your highness?”

And suddenly, Oikawa’s mind drifted to a far off memory, almost a decade ago. When they had been children, Oikawa’s elder brother had often overseen their dance lessons. Whenever they had made a false step or gotten distracted, Akio would make them dance together, their partners giggling from the sidelines as they watched. Both of them would pout, faces flushed in embarrassment at being forced to dance with one another, as Akio would adjust their posture and put them in a proper position. Akio would always have a smug grin on his face as he made them dance together, but would spend his evening pouting thereafter – although he never told Oikawa why.

After a moment of stunned silence, Oikawa merely chuckled under his breath as he accepted Iwaizumi’s hand, smirking at him as Iwaizumi lifted his head. Iwaizumi’s grin was just as heart-warming as ever; cheeky and confident.

“Only if I can lead.” Oikawa said as he settled his gloved hand in Iwaizumi’s.

“Isn’t this my party?” Iwaizumi retorted with a wider grin as he laid a hand on Oikawa’s waist, not once hesitating as he began to lead Oikawa without giving him an opportunity to retort.

“No fair…” Oikawa pouted, but could not bring himself to back out, and he rested his right hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, allowing his shorter friend to guide him over the glossy floor, their footsteps faintly tapping on the tiles under them.

They danced in relative silence for a little while, laughing to themselves almost foolishly as they tried not to step on each other’s feet, occasionally looking down between each other to avoid doing so. They were each in their own way different; Oikawa, far taller and slender – Iwaizumi, only just shorter, but sturdier. It was awkward in some ways, being familiar with one another, and yet feeling like strangers all at once.

“I feel like we’re kids again, learning to dance.” Iwaizumi chuckled, a sound that was made deep in his throat.

“You remember too, huh? Ow!” Oikawa winced a little as Iwaizumi stepped on his foot, and he pouted at him again. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Who, me?” Iwaizumi’s grin was growing wider, and Oikawa wondered if it might split his face in half. “Never.”

From far across the hall, overlooking the dance floor from one of the upper levels, Akio leaned against the stone railings with a bemused, if not affectionate, smile on his face. Approaching from the stairs nearby were Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who moved to stand beside him, their gaze following his to the two young princes dancing on the floor. As it was with them, most eyes were glued to the sight. It was not unusual, per say; many knew that the two shared a strong bond; close friends since they had been very, very young. But Akio watched with a gentle, warm look in his eyes, humming along with the music that just barely reached his ears.

“Well done, you two.” He praised both Matsukawa and Hanamaki, chuckling gently as the princes continued to dance.

“We have no idea what you mean.” Hanamaki murmured coyly as he tapped his fingers against the stone railing.

“So, what do you think?” Akio shifted his head to glance at them, a sly look in those half lidded eyes of his. “Will it be on my head to further my family name?”

“That depends on them, I suppose.” Matsukawa laughed and shrugged his wide shoulders, just as amused by the situation – and pleased with his handiwork – as Akio was.

Unaware of their leering audience, Iwaizumi and Oikawa continued to dance, consumed in a hushed conversation about the last few years of their life. Briefly, and glossing over many details, they spoke of their troubles, their triumphs – their joys and their sorrows. So much had happened in two years that could not be expressed in a simple conversation. Both of them knew it, and yet they rambled all the same, taking it in turns as they listened to one another as they danced without thought.

When the dance concluded, Iwaizumi and Oikawa split apart and bowed their heads, and were not fazed by the applauding crowd that was still watching them intently. They cared little for their audience, and with a slight cock of his head, Oikawa lead Iwaizumi away from the dancing space to sift through the crowd. He quickly made sure Iwaizumi was still following him before slipping into the arched alcoves he had hidden himself away in before. Split off from the crowd, they walked side by side through the quiet and dimly lit hallway adjacent to the ballroom, and continued to talk of nonsense without much thought.

As Iwaizumi spoke, Oikawa could not help but think of how he had missed this voice. It was deeper now – more mature, as Akio had said – but his way of speech was no different. He’s voice still made a dark, guttural noise whenever he felt annoyed by Oikawa or something he had said, and he himself was tempted to irritate him some just to hear it once more, to be certain it was really him and not some talented imposter.

But when he saw those dark hazel eyes, illuminated by soft torchlight, he knew he was not mistaken.

Iwaizumi was back, and though this castle was not his actual home, he would always be welcome there.

Without even realising where they had been going, they found themselves exiting one of the main hallways and venturing outside into a large courtyard, standing under a leafless, dormant tree. The limbs of it cast dark twisting shadows onto the cobbled pathway, but neither was disturbed by its haunting appearance. They had spent so much time in that wide courtyard, once full of budding flowers with healthy vines crawling the grey stone walls.

In a daze as he listened to Iwaizumi recount his long journey back to Aobajousai, and then further again to come to the northern capital, Oikawa barely noticed when he halted his speech briefly, lifting a hand to Oikawa’s face. Oikawa froze as Iwaizumi’s calloused fingers brushed against his cheek as he removed Oikawa’s mask. He was thankful it was darker outside than it had been in the ballroom, despite the eerily glow of the moonlight filtering around the dormant tree, otherwise Iwaizumi would have surely noticed the reddening of his face.

“Sorry, the mask is annoying me.” Iwaizumi huffed as he turned it over in his hand, examining the gems that glittered around the eyeholes. “Gaudy thing, isn’t it?”

“What’s gaudy about it?” Oikawa snapped irritably as he snatched the mask from Iwaizumi’s hand, pouting at him fiercely. Iwaizumi pursed his lips tightly as he refrained from laughing aloud, and he removed his own mask, carefully hooking the edge of it onto the leather belts wrapped around his waist.

“What isn’t?” Iwaizumi teased, and suddenly his expression shifted from one of amusement to one of realisation, as if having remembered something. “Ah…nearly forgot about that.”

“Forgot what?” Oikawa raised a thin brow as Iwaizumi tugged at the buttons of his overcoat, snapping them undone to reach inside an inner-pocket.

“A gift, kind of.” Iwaizumi reeled his hand back held out an item no larger than his palm, neatly wrapped in a dark cloth. Oikawa was as startled by the thought of receiving a gift as he was curious about it. And what did _kind of_ mean? It was odd, Iwaizumi giving him something despite it being him who had returned after a long time.

“What sort of gift?” Oikawa could not help but question as he carefully grabbed the corner of the wrapped package, their knuckles brushing together as he did so.

Iwaizumi’s eyes were flicking back and forth between Oikawa’s face and the parcel – clearing wanting him to look at it before he explained further. Oikawa scrunched up his face a little, chewing the inside of his lip as he pulled at the edges of the cloth, revealing the item that had been concealed. He hadn’t known what to expect, could only have guessed, and even still he would have been wrong. In the palm of his hand rested a necklace that was both aged and worn. It was a simple thing really; a clear, translucent crystal with a shining white centre, glittering in what little light was cast onto it, and bound with a black strapping that was carefully wrapped around the jagged tip. Narrowing his eyes at it, he saw a number of etchings carved into the sides of the crystal, forming columns of unidentifiable text and runes.

“Incredible…” Oikawa breathed the word out and hesitantly picked up the crystal, as if fearing it might shatter at the slightest touch. He held it up into the moonlight, a fascinated look in his eyes as he twisted it between his fingers, smiling at the way the light gleamed on the surface.

“It was recovered from a dig site at one of the coastal ruins.” Iwaizumi began to explain, smiling as Oikawa continued to examine the seemingly ancient necklace. “The crew there thought it might have some kind of arcane properties, so I offered to bring it back for you to play with.”

Iwaizumi knew him all too well.

Second in line for the throne – though technically third in line as his nephew was more likely to succeed his elder brother – Oikawa hadn’t been required follow the rigorous path of learning politics and diplomacy, and other such things useful to a king. He did learn of some things, to an extent, should disaster fall upon his brother’s head, but he had always been encouraged to pursue some kind of study to keep him mind sharp and his hands busy.

In doing so, Oikawa had found the study of the arcane intriguing, if not utterly enchanting – literally at times. It was not uncommon for people to be born with an innate ability to wield magic and manipulate the unknown to their whims, and as such the study of such indescribable skills was important. Oikawa possessed no secret talents nor abilities, but such disadvantages did not curb his enthusiasm to study what boggled the mind and altered the creeds of nature itself.

Finding arcane artefacts was increasingly rare, and what little was found were either not functional or damaged, or simply too misunderstood to risk using. For this to have been found, so well intact…for Iwaizumi to have even considered bringing it to him for study…

“I wonder what it’s for…can’t be for some kind of alchemy, the runes are aligned strangely.” Oikawa mused and turned the crystal over in his palm, beginning to mumble to himself thoughtfully. “Too small to use as a summoning piece. Spell casting, perhaps? Or enchantment?”

“I forgot how annoying you get when you talk to yourself like that.” Iwaizumi grumbled and scowled at Oikawa as if he had personally offended him.

“Oh! Sorry. I’ll look it over properly tomorrow.” Oikawa flushed as he wrapped the necklace back up and lowered his gaze, tilting his head slightly in apology. “Thank you for bringing it back with you.”

“Hm. Don’t mention it. You better find something out from it.” Iwaizumi sighed and raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose slightly. Looking at him more closely, Oikawa could see the faint dark circles against his tan skin without the mask in place to hide them.

“You must be tired. You haven’t had a proper chance to rest yet, have you?” Oikawa looked at him with concern, and Iwaizumi let his hand drop, his eyes softening. Pausing for a moment to take a deep breath, Iwaizumi’s expression shifted just slightly, and the weariness in his eyes began to show.

“Not really, no. Your brother loves to throw surprises on people.” As Iwaizumi said this, Oikawa could not help but wonder just how much forewarning Iwaizumi had had about the masquerade ball on his journey to the northern capital.

“That he does…” Oikawa mumbled the words with a bitter tone to his voice, and he shook his head slightly as he lifted his arms, gently patting Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “No matter. You should go rest. We’ve already made renovations to your old chambers here, so you should feel right at home.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Iwaizumi’s smile was a mix of happiness and exhaustion he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the wild dark tuffs slightly. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow then. Try not to stay up all night looking at whatever that is.”

“I would never.” Oikawa said simply and he glowered when Iwaizumi scoffed loudly.

“You’re a bad liar, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said as he took a step back, smirking at him slightly and lifting a hand to wave at him lazily over his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Rest easy.” Oikawa said softly and he instinctively waved back at him.

Oikawa stood in the centre of the courtyard, watching Iwaizumi’s back disappearing into the shadows cast by tall shrubbery and stark naked trees. For a moment, Oikawa was tempted to run after him. A little under an hour of conversation was not enough to bridge a two year gap. He wanted to talk more, listen to his tales and all his adventures and learn of his hardships, to share with him much of his own. Perhaps that was selfish of him.

And yet he was tempted all the same.

“How anticlimactic…” The disappointed voice of his brother was too close for his liking, and Oikawa spun around only to jolt back in shock of how Akio was all but leering over his shoulder. How had he not heard him approach? When had he done so?

“What are you going on about?” Oikawa hissed the words as he glared at his brother, suspicious as to why he had been followed into the courtyard. There were a hundred places he could be, why there? And then, too, of all times.

“I thought you two might finally kiss. You know, like in those romantic stories; when the hero finally returns to reclaim a long lost love-” Akio had barely finished his sentence when Oikawa interrupted him loudly.

“You need to stop fooling around, making jokes about something like that…!” Oikawa practically shouted, so embarrassed he was. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes, feeling his cheeks warming up quickly.

“You’re the one that’s fooling around, Tooru.” Akio frowned at him, a sharp glare in his eyes that sent a chill down his spine. However nice his face may be, that glare of his was enough to startle even Oikawa.

“What do you mean?” Oikawa asked quietly, although he continued to glare and pout at his brother defiantly.

“Mother and father still send me letters about arranging a marriage for you, you know?” Akio heaved a heavy sigh as he put his hands on his hips. The way he looked at Oikawa made him feel as if he was speaking to a child, and Oikawa didn’t appreciate the thought one bit. “Either you settle your own business, or arrangements will be made. I can only delay this for so long.”

Oikawa flinched inwardly at the thought, and he hoped he remained composed enough outwardly as Akio stared him down. He had always been bothered by the way his parents practically bludgeoned him with potential marriage proposals. When he had been young, the thought of marrying a young and beautiful woman thrilled him. As he grew older, however, the excitement ebbed away, like waves beating against a cliff face, washing away the strongest footholds. A few years ago, he realised he cared little for it, but hadn’t known entirely why.

It had taken several months of Iwaizumi being so far away that made him realise where his affections were utterly concentrated.

After realising it, he had agreed to meet several noble ladies, and his parents had been truly excited for him, but each meeting with them ended the same way. He felt very little towards them, and what he did was chalked up to feeling as though they were intruding on Iwaizumi’s place at his side, where he belonged. Or rather, where Oikawa selfishly wished he belonged.

He’d never spoken properly about it, yet Akio seemed to have come to his own conclusions about Oikawa’s intentions long before he had realised just who had captivated him.

Even so, he certainly wasn’t going to give his brother the satisfaction of hearing it aloud from him. At least not when he had such a smug, omniscient air about him.

Not knowing what else to say to him, Oikawa wished his brother a good evening and quickly dashed out of the courtyard towards the main halls. He briefly heard Akio calling out after him, but he pretended not to hear him as he retreated into the castle walls, trying to get to his chambers before someone stopped him.

Once inside, he adjusted the bolt locks on his door to prevent any kind of unwanted intrusion for the evening. He didn’t want to have to deal with his brother showing his face at the crack of dawn to pester him again. He was all too fond of doing that every so often, and he knew he’d be in no mood for it tomorrow.

Oikawa’s quarters were lavish and extravagant, as expected for anyone holding some kind of noble title – even more so for royalty, such as he. The furniture was carved from dark wood that was polished and shone proudly, and there were a number of bookcases lining the walls full of dusty tomes with worn spines. The tinted glass windows cast a soothing, soft green light into the room as Oikawa moved around the large canopy bed all but buried under the softest pillows to strip himself of his vestments. Unsnapping buttons and unclipping jewellery, Oikawa laid out each item neatly on a dresser before dropping himself onto the edge of the bed so he could remove his shoes.

Left in only a loose fitting shirt and slacks that were drawn tightly near his waist, Oikawa stared at the velvet canopy of the bed, chewing on his lower lip as he pondered on Akio’s words.

Marriage…it was going to be inevitable, especially if he did nothing about his one-sided affections towards Iwaizumi.  At the same time, he almost felt as if he were betraying Iwaizumi with such thoughts, thinking of him as he had the last few years. There had been times during his absence that Oikawa had been grateful he was gone, hoping that he might have time to calm himself and get rid of such emotions. He told himself he merely idolised Iwaizumi – after all, he was strong, and handsome, and relatively kind when not annoyed in some way. He was stubborn, but confidently so. He wouldn’t let anyone sway his mind, not without good, logical reason. He told himself he simply respected and cared for him, as any friend would.

But Oikawa remembered how Iwaizumi’s fingers had skimmed against his cheek not too longer ago, and his cheeks warmed as he thought of how madly his heart had leapt in that moment.

Idolisation…he wished it were that simple.

What he desired was far too complicated.


	2. Important News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kaneki_coffee distracted me with adorable iwaoi ideas as I was trying to finish this up so if there are weird mistakes in places I'm sorry. Enjoy and have a good night! c:

There was one place within the castle that Oikawa could truly call a refuge. Elsewhere, he was at the mercy and whims of his brother, but the archive was his domain, a place that was for him and all that intrigued him. In his youth it had simply been a library, but as Oikawa gained an interest in the arcane, he requisitioned books and codices by the dozens. It was an oval shaped room, with wide windowpanes allowing the morning light to bounce off the white stone walls decorated with teal banners. Polished bookcases lined the walls and were organised neatly, having been rearranged time and time again until in a proper order.

Oikawa sat by a large wooden desk, his legs drawn up to sit cross-legged in the high backed chair before it, the desk surface overflowing with loose manuscripts and encyclopaedias. He held the necklace Iwaizumi had given him the night before at arm’s length, watching as the golden daylight reflected off the jagged crystal, the centre of it still upholding a pleasant white glow, as if a piece of ice was stuck within it, immortalised by the stone. In his right handed he tapped an inked quill parchment, staining the edge of the paper that held a dozen sketches of the runes inscribed on the crystal. In the corner of the archive, removing dusty tomes from bookshelves was Kunimi, with a tired expression on his face as usual. Kunimi was generally tasked with the upkeep of the archive – however unwilling he was some days, the library was also his sanctuary, where he could evade Oikawa’s more erratic wards. Oikawa originally hadn’t intended on troubling him with the study of the amulet, but as he could find little evidence in the archive as to its origin, he had enlisted his aid.

Kunimi returned to the desk and place several books and scrolls in a neat stack, and Oikawa thanked him quietly as he sat upright and gently laid the crystal on a small padded cushion. There were several cracks in its surface, and although it didn’t seem as though it would break, Oikawa didn’t want to risk it.

The sun climbed outside, and as it did, Oikawa and Kunimi continued their research. They could not find even the slightest mention of such crystals in any of the academia that had been collected over the years, nor did the runes resemble anything known to them.

With a heavy sigh, Oikawa fell back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair, strands of the dark curls falling in his eyes as he glared at the table in frustration. With an all too dismissive flick of his wrist, he silently ushered Kunimi out of the room. Kunimi took no offense, however, knowing that Oikawa had already been examining the necklace long before he had arrived that morning, and left him to his thoughts.

Oikawa faintly heard the halt of footsteps at the door, and a murmurs of voices, and for a moment feared his brother had come to torment him. He was in no such mood. The footsteps became louder as the intruder trespassed on his sanctuary, but as he opened his mouth to tell them to leave, the person had already approached his side.

“So, you were here.” It was not his brother, and Oikawa jerked his head up to find himself staring at Iwaizumi with a sober expression on his face as his eyes looked over the almighty mess that was the desk. In his hand he held a small plate with a cloth laid over a freshly baked piece of bread. The smell of the seasonal herbs and cheese filled his nose, and he begged his stomach not to growl at him.

“Ah…yes, here I am.” Oikawa laughed nervously, unsure of what to say in reply, and uttered the first thing that came to mind. Iwaizumi smirked at him a little before his gaze ventured back to the table, his hazel eyes darting to the crystal. Iwaizumi’s eyes travelled across the room curiously – the last time he had been there had been two years ago, and since then Oikawa’s collection and grown considerably. As he did so, Oikawa’s hand was sneaking up to the plate, trying to pinch the piece of bread off the plate without Iwaizumi knowing so.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night looking at that thing.” Iwaizumi’s voice was firm now, as if daring Oikawa to tell him otherwise, and he shifted the plate to his opposite hand and out of Oikawa’s reach, fully aware he had been trying to take it from him. The northern prince could feel himself sinking into his seat.

“Not _all_ night.” Oikawa murmured with a small pout and pulled his hand back to his lap, his words barely audible. In the silence of the archive, however, Iwaizumi heard him and sighed in exasperation.

“Well, did you learn anything?” Propping his hand on his hip and looking down at Oikawa expectantly, Iwaizumi waited for the handsome prince to tell him something that would justify his being awake for several hours already. Oikawa’s childish expression shifted within seconds into a tired, almost jaded one.

“No, unfortunately.” He explained in simple terms that there had been nothing in the archive that even remotely hinted to what the purpose of such a crystal. From alchemy to summons to the more ludicrous dark blood magic rituals, he had found not a trace of anything. His eyes landed on the necklace and he gave it a dissatisfied glare, as if the piece of jewellery had personally offended him. “I’m beginning to think it may have been just a mad man’s means of passing time.”

“I’ll write a letter to the excavators. Maybe they’ll have uncovered something that can help with a translation or…something.” Iwaizumi didn’t know very much about the arcane arts – least of all artefacts of that nature. But seeing Oikawa look so dejected, the least he could do was investigate it.

“It’s fine for now. You should just enjoy your homecoming.” Oikawa smiled up at him, his eyes lighting up with a change of subject. “You must have heard by now that there’s to a tournament in your name, celebrating your return.”

“That little party last night was far too much itself, but a tournament?” Iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “All I really want is to relax and catch up, and your brother has been running around talking to dukes and dames. It’s exhausting.”

“We’ll have time to talk properly soon.” Oikawa’s smile grew wider knowing that Iwaizumi wanted to talk with him more. He felt his heart squeeze as he forced himself to sit still and keep his gaze fixed firmly on the necklace. “You can endure it, can’t you?”

“I really rather not.” Iwaizumi murmured with a soft sigh and switched the plate from hand to hand once more, lowering into Oikawa’s lap. “Anyway, eat something. You’re still as skinny as you were ever.”

“I am not!” Oikawa protested as he scooped up the piece of bread, keeping the cloth laid on his lap to catch any crumbs. He was only thin in comparison to Iwaizumi himself, who had enough muscle on him to likely carry a few people at a time. As Oikawa pulled the bread apart to eat small sections, Iwaizumi leaned his hands against the desk edge and busied himself with reading the notes that Oikawa had made about the recovered amulet. Oikawa smirked to himself a little as he slouched with his shoulders hunched up, feeling amused with himself. “Don’t try to act smart, I know you can’t understand any of that.”

“Shut up and eat, _your highness_.” Iwaizumi hissed as he snapped his head around to glare at Oikawa, who almost choked on his food in surprise at such a sharp glare.

Iwaizumi shifted his weight and leaned away from the table, walking away to look about the room while mumbling about Oikawa’s terrible personality under his breath. As he did so, Oikawa made a more than childish face at him behind his back and continued to fill his empty stomach.

Still, he was happy to see Iwaizumi. Watching him wander the archive, his fingers lightly touching the spines of worn leather bound books and murmuring the inscriptions to himself, it made him smile, made him genuinely happy. He wondered if Iwaizumi might be impressed by the library and how it had grown after such a long time. Oikawa had spent much time there, before and during his absence, learning all that he could with what materials he had as he lacked any of the natural affinity with the arcane. The archive was a point of pride for him, a tangible form of his hard work.

Before he could ask Iwaizumi’s opinion, one of the castle servants entered the archive, claiming that Oikawa’s presence had been requested by his brother. Across the room, Iwaizumi looked over and offered to join him, pushing a codex he had been looking at back into its place on the shelf. Oikawa huffed a little as he stood up and brushed his clothes off, pausing only to pick up the necklace from its seat on the deck and fastening it around to his neck to allow it to rest against his neck. Even if it lacked any kind of intrigue, it had still been a gift, one he intended to treasure.

As they followed the servant through the halls, Iwaizumi quietly asked Oikawa if he knew what was going on. Oikawa only shook his head with a softly murmured ‘ _no_ ’. He suddenly felt like a child again, summoned by his parents, with Iwaizumi at his side and telling him it would be alright, even if he were about to be scolded – which was often. The memory brought an unknowing smile to his face, and he only realised when Iwaizumi asked what amused him so. Oikawa made up a foolish excuse, not wanting to admit his true thoughts, though the way Iwaizumi’s brows furrowed at him made him think it wasn’t good enough to fool him.

Iwaizumi said little else though, and continued to walk by him, matching his stride easily. They were eventually led to a chamber that was used as the official meeting hall, an exquisite room with a large hand carved stone table that was often covered with missives and reports to be read. It was where Akio held many of his formal meetings and attended to his councillors. Upon arrival, several of those councillors exited, each of them stopping to bow their heads to the young princes before moving. Oikawa and Iwaizumi raised a brow at one another before entering the chamber, quickly spying Akio sitting languidly in a high back chaired, his feet resting on the edge of the table. It was almost unsightly how he could act that way given his title.

“Can you at least pretend to have some dignity in your appearance?” Oikawa scolded him as he approached his side, slapping his hand against his elder brother’s knee, which jerked in a sudden reaction.

“That’s no way to talk to your brother.” Akio replied with just as childish a pout as Oikawa had. As an outsider, Iwaizumi could only think about how much alike they were, even if neither would ever admit to it.

“What was it you wanted?” Iwaizumi asked and quickly got them both on topic. The last thing he wanted to was listen to the two of them banter relentlessly. One of them on their own was enough, two was just asking for a headache.

Quickly, Akio straightened and stood from his chair, raising himself up gracefully as he snatched a small scroll off the stone table and lightly throw it into the air. Oikawa, not having expected it, raised his hands fumbled, just barely managing to catch it before glaring at his brother. The wax seal of it was broken, meaning Akio had likely already read it.

“Watari’s last report.” Akio surmised swiftly, and Oikawa quickly tore the scroll open, reading the small and hasty handwriting.

Watari had come under Oikawa’s protection when he was young, but he had always had trouble sitting still. As such, Oikawa had allowed him to make use of his talents to scout the borders of their land informally for the crown. The last time Oikawa had seen him had been just the week prior, when he had been asked to gather information regarding a band of mercenaries that had been rumoured to be travelling through the northern kingdom. Watari’s report claimed he had found credible evidence of their presence, and in his report had requested permission to continue his search.

“We should let him keep searching. We don’t know what kind of trouble those hooligans might turn out to be.” Oikawa said as he finished reading the scroll and gave his brother a knowing look. Akio smiled and nodded at him in turn.

“I’ve already sent a reply approving his request.” Akio explained as he sauntered around the table, dragging his fingers over the smooth, polished surface. “When he’s found something more noteworthy, we can send men to round up whatever manner of men they are and deal with them accordingly. The last thing we need is for a village to wind up slaughtered on the morrow.”

“Good. They may just be looking for work, but it’ll be troublesome if they instigate conflict along the borders.” Oikawa murmured as Iwaizumi took the scroll from his hands, reading it for himself.

“I thought the same. But, that’s not all I wanted you to see,” Akio continued as he waved Oikawa over to join him at his side and he lifted several letters and papers from a stack on the table. “For Iwaizumi’s tournament in a few days. You’ll need to greet the competitors, grace them with your loving smile, receive flowers, kiss ugly babies – all those things I don’t want to do.”

“You shouldn’t say that, brother.” Oikawa narrowed his eyes at this so-called king, but received a haughty stare from down his nose.

“What? They’re ugly, I don’t understand why people fawn over newborn children so much.” Akio huffed and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “They’re so…squishy looking. And they dribble, and vomit too!”

“And to think you have a son.” Iwaizumi muttered across the table as he sat himself down with an unamused frown, and both Akio and Oikawa flinched at the stern look being sent their way.

“I’m telling Takeru you thought he was an ugly baby.” Oikawa mumbled and Akio glared at him sharply, reaching up to roughly pinch his brother’s ear, causing the prince to yelp and grab his brother’s wrist.

“You’ll say nothing to no one, my precious little brother.” Akio spoke in a sing-song voice, almost humming the words as he rested his head against Oikawa’s in a show of mocking affection.

Iwaizumi groaned deep in his throat as the two began to bicker. He doubted very much he could stop them, and instead reached over the large table to swipe the letters from the stack, beginning to read them. If there was truly to a tournament to be held in his name, he’d need to be aware of who was attending, and who would be there to challenge him. Some of the names were utterly unknown to him, some more familiar, some vaguely ringing true to a memory in the back of his mind. One name in particular caught his eye, and thinking he had misread it, Iwaizumi glanced at it again, his hand tensing and causing the paper to crumple at the edge slightly.

“Hey,” the word was loud and sharp, and both Oikawa and Akio ceased their endless chatter to look across the room as Iwaizumi lowered the papers, a dark glare forming on his face and his upper lip curled up in distaste. “Why the hell is Ushiwaka coming to this tournament?”

“What? Who the hell invited _him_?” Oikawa raced around the table, grabbing Iwaizumi’s wrist and jerking the papers towards him to check. He had to have been mistaken. When he realised he wasn’t, he adopted a similar expression as Iwaizumi, and together they look as though they had just smelt something foul and rotten.

“What’s with those faces? Can you not meet for once as adults and be polite?” Akio asked and narrowed his eyes at them.

“I don’t want to hear that from you of all people…” Iwaizumi mumbled almost in a whisper and Oikawa, close enough to hear, nodded his head vigorously in agreement until Akio told them to stop conspiring against him.

“Hm…well, if the pompous prince of Shiratorizawa is going to come along, you’ll have to work extra hard to make a fool of him!” Oikawa slapped Iwaizumi’s shoulder in excitement. The last thing he wanted for for Ushijima to show up Iwaizumi at his own tournament. That was just insulting.

“I have no choice now, but I’ll gladly knock him off his high horse.” Iwaizumi grinned, devilishly so, at the thought of betting Ushijima into the dust. They had only met a few times when they were young, mostly at formal occasions, but every time they had gotten off on the wrong foot – although Ushijima himself had left believing he had made a good impression.

“For goodness sakes, if you two could behave yourself a few days from now, that would mean a lot to me.” Akio sighed as he shuffled around the table to head to the door and leave, not wanting to entertain or encourage their childish rivalry with the crowned prince of another nation.

As Akio turned his back and left, Oikawa pulled a face at him, and given the situation, Iwaizumi allowed it and flicked his gaze back to the paper, lightly shaking off Oikawa’s hand that was still clamped down on his wrist. Oikawa made a small whining noise until his brother had exited the room before following Iwaizumi’s gaze, both of them staring at the paper bearing the name both of them dreaded.

“Don’t let him overshadow your day.” Oikawa said firmly, speaking as if failing to do so would be a fate worse than death.

“I’ll make him regret turning up, don’t you worry.” Iwaizumi replied with just as much resolve.

Iwaizumi wasn’t looking forward to the tournament, but knowing that Ushijima was going to be in attendance only filled him with a desire to put the prince in his place, especially when the event was being held in his honour. The thought of Shiratorizawa’s crowned prince ruining his homecoming was more than enough reason for him to feel motivated to do so.

The two remained in the meeting hall, murmuring to one another and plotting the downfall of Ushijima at the tournament a few days from then, snickering childishly to one another as they imagined Ushijima admitting defeat and leaving with his tail between his legs. What a sight it would be, they hollered, and anyone passing the room outside could not help but smile, glad that the two princes were as they always had been, so close and playful with one another.

Almost as if no time had passed, and they hadn’t spent the last two years wondering if they would ever be able to talk how they used to.


	3. A Proposition

Oikawa could just barely remember the last time they had held a tournament of such a grand scale. It had been several years ago, in celebration of his brother’s crowning ceremony. The festivities lasted for days at a time, and one of Oikawa’s fondest memories of it had been sneaking away from the tournaments with Iwaizumi to hold a competition of their own. With only a dimly burning torch as a light in the dark on the edge of the tournament grounds, they two duelled with wooden and still blunted swords, parrying and lunging at one another playfully. Even though they had both been undertaking the necessary training to wield a sword and a shield, Iwaizumi had taken to it with more intensity; his strikes were wide and heavy and could make Oikawa stumble back and lose his footing, while he himself had more finesse in his movements, more grace and a careful understanding of what move would come next when Iwaizumi twisted the wooden hilt in his hand for his next attack.

Oikawa’s mother had been furious with them for having run off on their own that evening, coming back with scraps and tears in their clothing and dirt on their faces from having their childish duel. After they had been scolded, however, they gave each other a cheeky grin and sniggered, amused with themselves nonetheless.

The memory brought a smile to his face as Oikawa slouched in his seat beside his brother’s throne, his eyes staring vacantly over the arena that had been renovated overnight for the melee events. The previous days had seen a fierce competition between jousters, and Akio had weighed his favour on one of the combatants so much that he insisted the competition continued until they were either defeated or knighted the champion of the event. Iwaizumi did not take part in the joust, and Oikawa had little interest in the sport itself and had only appeared for the sake of it, but it had been amusing to see his so-called King become engrossed in the event.

Becoming more aware that he was gazing at nothing in particular, Oikawa’s eyes drifted across the field bathed in the light of an evening sun that was slowly beginning to set, the heat of it warming the skin of his face. The crowds roared as the melee events continued, and every so often Oikawa would clap his hands together to applaud the fighters. His eyes glazed over the stands with a feigned smiled, disinterested as he looked towards the edges of the arena where the combatants were preparing for their own fights.

Iwaizumi was participating in the melee, and Oikawa was eager to see him prevail over his opponents, though the other had yet to be announced. They had been together briefly in the morning, where Oikawa had mockingly wished him luck he did not need, and leaving him with his knights to prepare. Iwaizumi had travelled with several others, among them was Kyoutani Kentarou, a knight of the southern kingdom, and in service to Iwaizumi directly. He was only a year or two younger than them, but yet he carried a fierce look in his eyes that seemed ageless and untamed. Oikawa had read about him in the letters Iwaizumi had sent him during his travels, claiming to have found a young man who was an exceptional fighter, if undisciplined.

When Oikawa had seen him for the first time in the melee that very morning, he had been astounded by his prowess – not only physically, but Kyoutani appeared overwhelming in his mere presence, that much alone intimidated his opponents, and a thought he had carelessly murmured aloud resulted in the crowds roaring with fever. ‘F _ear the Mad Dog_ ’ they cried as Kyoutani thrashed his opponents, beating them will and their pride into the dirt with each hammering blow.

As time went on, Oikawa became restless. He tapped his fingertips against the polished armrest of his throne, the sound eventually agitating his brother enough to slap his arm roughly before being scolded. Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who were seated beside Oikawa, sniggered and mumbled to themselves, and Oikawa cast them a menacing glare, as if daring them to speak their mind. Neither did, but their amused smiles never once faltered.

“When’s Hajime going to fight?” The excited, however impatient, voice of a small child sounded nearby, and Oikawa lifted his chin out of his hand to look to the railings of the platform the royals were seated on. His nephew held onto the wooden rails and peered at those already occupying the arena where Iwaizumi was scheduled to fight soon.

“Soon, Takeru, be patient.” Akio explained swiftly, a gentle smile on his face as he waved his son back towards him. When Takeru complied, Akio busied himself with straightening his attire despite it being almost immaculate. “Iwaizumi will be fighting shortly. You and Oikawa are so very excited, aren’t you?”

“Beg pardon?” Oikawa snapped the words as he glanced at his elder brother, who grinned back at him as he rubbed the top of Takeru’s head affectionately.

“You’ve been fidgeting all morning, just enjoy the show.” Akio’s words were sweet but almost patronising, and Oikawa rolled his eyes as he tore his gaze away.

“I think he’s worried Iwaizumi might give his favour to someone other than him.” Matsukawa sighed whimsically, holding a hand to his chest as he feigned offense at the very thought, as if it were the most scandalous idea in the whole world.

“There are so many fair ladies here today, perhaps he’s off gallivanting with one as we speak.” Hanamaki chimed in, struggling to maintain his composure as his lips tugged into a smirk. Oikawa wasn’t sure whose teasing he was more annoyed at.

“Alright, you two can leave now, shoo!” Oikawa stood from his seat and waved his hands in their direction, ushering both Hanamaki and Matsukawa up quickly as they backed away from him, grinning and sniggering as they retreated.

As they did so, however, the sound of a horn bellowing out through the tournament zone silenced Oikawa and he turned his head to gaze at the source of the noise. The horn was followed by fanfare, and from his throne Akio stood, uttering that another esteemed guest must have arrived. Oikawa made a short disgusted noise as he stepped away from his friends to move to Akio’s side, standing tall with his shoulders back as a tight smile quickly captured his features. He’d had enough posturing for the day, another forced smile and he feared his face might crack.

The entrance to the arena was cleared of combatants, the fighters and knights stepping aside as dozens of riders rode through the gateway, the horses trampling on the dirt ground as they approached. The men and women seated on the dark horses wore armours of black metal adorned with purple fabrics, fashioned into capes and other vestments with the sigil of their nationhood embroidered onto them, and Oikawa immediately recognised the tall man leading the party of the accompanying soldiers. His dark hair was neatly parted and his sharp, almost expressionless eyes appeared cold and disapproving, enough though he likely felt neither emotion in any such way.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the crowned prince and heir to the throne in the region of Shiratorizawa.

Oikawa’s façade disintegrated quickly, and he did not bother to keep up a smile as he watched the prince dismount his horse and approach the steps leading to the stand.

“It appears our guest has brought a small army with him.” Akio mentioned with a tight smile, unamused with Oikawa’s shift in demeanour, and gazed at the knights and soldiers standing by, awaiting their prince.

“They’ve come to flaunt their power, as always.” Oikawa spat the words with venom, his upper lip curling up. He did little to mask the disdain in his voice. Though Oikawa had only met with Ushijima on a few occasions whilst growing up, he had spent more time with the young prince than he had been willing to, and made no secret of his dislike of him. His cold attitude towards Ushijima often spouted from childhood squabbles, from being bested at what Oikawa thought himself excelling in and from petty arguments where Oikawa became riled up at Ushijima’s lack of an animated response. Over the years, his petty distaste had grown whenever he heard news of Ushijima’s accomplishments.

“Mind yourself, Tooru. I won’t tell you again.” Akio’s voice was unusually stern as he kept his gaze fixated on the approaching prince. Oikawa merely scoffed as he lifted his chin, staring down his nose at Ushijima, who bowed his head in a formal greeting to them.

“Your majesty, your highness,” Ushijima’s voice was deep and lacking in any warmth. It was not out of spite or distaste, rather it was just his way. Even that alone infuriated Oikawa. When Ushijima lifted his head, Oikawa found himself being stared at with intent, despite the fact Ushijima was addressing his brother. “I would like to thank you for the invitation. It is good to hear Iwaizumi returned from his travels safely. Please offer him our best.”

“You may do so yourself.” Akio replied swiftly, his gaze drawn to a figure advancing from the side. Iwaizumi was stomping towards them, his silvery armour rattling as he hurried and moved up the steps to join Oikawa’s side, the same distasteful look on his face as he gazed down at Ushijima, though the visiting prince seemed unfazed by their cold glares.

“It is good to see you well, Iwaizumi.” Ushijima brought his gaze from Oikawa to address the southern prince, who merely laughed through his nose in response as an unpleasant smirk tugged at his lips.

“I look forward to seeing you on the field today, Ushiwaka.” Iwaizumi murmured the nickname with utter contempt, but Ushijima was not troubled by his words. He remained steadfast and composed, utterly unaffected.

“I have a request, if you might indulge me, your majesty.” Ushijima did not respond to his taunt in any fashion, and the way that he disregarded Iwaizumi’s comment made Oikawa’s blood boil and he had to refrain himself from shouting at him as he would have if they were not in such a public place.

“Of course, we are all friends on this day. What do you need?” Akio asked warmly, smiling at Ushijima as kindly as he would any other man and spread his arms as if to embrace him, though it was only a gesture to show he would accommodate his whims, if only for the moment.

“I would like to speak with the northern prince,” Ushijima’s request was one that none expected, and it wiped the smile from Akio’s face, replaced by one of confusion as the visiting prince turned his head to look upon Oikawa once more. “In private, if I may.”

“You absolutely may not-” Oikawa was halfway through an adamant refusal when Akio interrupted him, his raised voice silencing Oikawa’s protest.

“You may indeed, Ushijima. My charming little brother will be more than happy to speak with you.” Akio’s voice was tight, a mix of appeasement and outright annoyance as he remained composed as best he could despite Oikawa’s childish refusal. He turned his head to look at Oikawa, who gaped at him in disbelief, but Akio narrowed his eyes at him, his voice turning ice cold as he issued a command, as was his right to do so as king. “Won’t he, now?”

His words left Oikawa no room to refuse, and he dared not to under such a threatening glare. He was silent for a moment, his gaze instinctively seeking out Iwaizumi, who held a concerned and angered look in his eyes. He clearly didn’t like the idea any more than Oikawa did. With a heavy, annoyed sigh, Oikawa stepped forward, his boots thudding on the small set of stairs and he moved passed Ushijima, a sharp ‘ _follow me_ ’ leaving his mouth as he stomped away. Ushijima did not hesitate, his footsteps sounding just behind him as he followed. Oikawa half hoped that if he moved quickly, he might lose Ushijima in the crowd as he returned to his tent.

He had no such luck however, as when he glanced over his shoulder, Ushijima was following close at his heels, deathly silent and with a determined look on his face. Oikawa need not weave through the crowds, as they parted to allow him to pass as he headed towards the tent pitched for when he wished a moment to himself to rest between events.

He flung aside the flap that revealed the inside of the tent, stepping inside and moving to the centre of the wide tent. Inside the dirt floor was covered with canvas and rugs that kept the inside warm against the cold of the night, and what little furniture there was consisted of a chaise lounge adorned with silk cushions and linings, and beside it a table with a pitcher of wine and crystal glasses. A dressing mannequin in the corner held his armour, plates of white metal over silver chainmail, and adorned with gold. He refused to wear it as he was not required to enter the melee, and he was more than content to watch the combatants. Ushijima’s eyes scanned the interior of the tent, stepping inside and brushing aside the thin sheets of fabric that hung from the tent’s ceiling to divide the entrance from the inner most part.

“Whatever it is you want, make it quick. I have better things to do than entertain you.” Oikawa’s words were beyond uncouth as he demanded Ushijima get to his business.

“Very well.” Ushijma said as he wandered across the open area to stare at the suit of armour, his fingertips brushing against the cape that dangled over the gorget, the piece of metal that protected the neck and collarbone. “Would you consider coming back with my company, to Shiratorizawa?”

“What?” Oikawa spun around, an incredulous look on his face. He began to laugh without meaning to. The very thought itself was absurd. He couldn’t believe Ushijima would have the gall to ask such of him, and to what end? In that moment, he didn’t much care. “Of course not. I’d sooner rather die.”

“Why?” Ushijima questioned and turned to face him, that serious look on his face never once fading, not cracking nor showing any hint of his true thoughts. This was yet another reason for Oikawa’s disdain of the distant prince, for he rarely seemed to show any hint of emotion.

“No reason. Every reason. Why should I? What would I do there but die of boredom and rot?” Oikawa sneered with a raised brow, growing more annoyed as Ushijima persisted in that line of conversation. Was this all he came for? To ask such a question?

“You could be of more use there than here, sitting on a throne and watching tournaments. You have a keen mind; it is wasted here. Will you not consider it for more than a second?” Ushijima insisted again, and once more, Oikawa was determined to deny him.

“No. I won’t.” Oikawa growled the words out, an outright denial. “Why are you so insistent? What do you gain?”

There was a stiff, uneasy silence that hung over them as Ushijima remained silent – either thinking of his reply or refusing to speak it aloud, Oikawa did not know. They stared at one another, a mere few feet between them, and all the world beyond the tent seemed to wash away as Oikawa’s dark eyes narrowed at him, assessing him, weighing his words. He could not see what lay in his eyes, what thoughts he might be concealing. Oikawa’s blood began to burn as he became more annoyed.

And suddenly, the world beyond the small tent returned the instant a shrill scream sounded far in the distance, followed by a distant clatter as something collapsed. Oikawa tore his gaze away from Ushijima, concern overruling his annoyed expression as he stepped forward to exit the tent. As he did so, Ushijima reached forward, his hand clamping down hard on Oikawa’s forearm, and he forced Oikawa to remain still, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he stared down at him. Oikawa tried to shake him off, at first mistaking his action as one of refusing to let their conversation die, but when he looked at his face, saw the glare that was forming in his eyes, he worried, and felt a deep unease spread through his chest as the sound of fighting began to echo too close by for it to have been from the melee tournament.

“What did you do…” Oikawa’s voice was low, soft and wary, and in the silence that followed he heard the deep calls of guards calling for arms, and the fighting grew louder. “Why did you come here?”

“I won’t ask again.” Ushijima replied sharply, evading his question as he yet again pursued the answer he was looking for.

Oikawa would not give it to him.

His free hand twitched at his side, aching to reach the dagger concealed under a layering of fabric wrapped around his waist and hips. His brother often in the past called him a fool for keeping it on his person, never once considering he would need such a thing. He was thankful for it then and there. Ushijima did not look away from him, steadfast as he stared him down, and Oikawa swallowed hard as he slipped his fingers under the edge to allow the dagger to slip free into his palm. In a swift thrust, he raised it with intent to bury it deep into Ushijima’s neck, willing to risk whatever consequences it would bring upon his head, but Ushijima twisted his arm and threw him hard across the tent, the crown that sat upon his head falling to the ground and bouncing away from him in the process. He tumbled to the ground and staggered to his feet as he heard the sharp ringing of a sword being unsheathed and heavy footsteps inching closer.

“Last chance…” Ushijima’s voice sounded strained now, out of patience and yet conflicted. Oikawa wished he would just shut up.

“Go to hell and take your chance with you.” Oikawa spat as he reared his head and glared up at him. Ushijima’s eyes had narrowed, brows furrowed, but not in anger. It was possibly the first time Oikawa had seen him genuinely conflicted in some way. Even so, he did not care. Whatever that condescending prince had done, whatever for, he would not stand for it, and he would see him suffer for his actions.

As he rose to his feet, using the chaise lounge to support his weight, he reached behind him to grab hold of the pitcher of wine, swinging it sideways to carry its weight and flinging it towards Ushijima, who raised his arm to allow it to bounce off his forearm and crash against the ground. It allowed Oikawa a brief moment to dash to the other side of the tent, where a sheathed sword rest upon a table. Before he could tear the sheath away, a hand buried itself in his hair, yanking back hard and pulling him away from it. Oikawa yelped, his hands abandoning the sword as he latched onto Ushijima, his nails scraping against the metal gauntlets as he released the dagger without thinking.

The hand released him only when Oikawa had been thrown back across the tent, his back sliding against the rugs as he rolled and scrambled to his feet, jumping back as the blade swung wide in front of him, slicing open the front of shirt and leaving a shallow but stinging cut reaching diagonally across his chest, blood seeping from it and staining the white fabric of his shirt. Hissing as he winced, Oikawa backed up until there was nothing left behind him save the fabric of the tent wall, and with Ushijima readying to lunge at him, he swallowed hard, regretting he had let go of the dagger when he had been grabbed before.

Ushijima raised the blade to swing it down hard from above his head, and Oikawa twisted his body to the side as the sword sliced through the side of the tent, and with his weight leaning against it, Oikawa slid back and through the large gap that had been made, falling to the ground and scrambling away on his hands and knees as he clutched his lightly bleeding chest. He knew he was no match for Ushijima, not in a one on one fight, especially when he was unarmed, and without some defence.

Oikawa had little time to take in the sights around him as he ran through the rows of pitched tents that were before him, heaving and couching as heavy black smoke filled the air and burned his lungs and people pushed passed him, desperate to flee the flames that were creeping across the ground. Oikawa stood straight, spinning on the spot as his eyes flicked about the horizon red with flames in the distance and tried to gather his bearings, but to no avail. Without direction, he ran forward, his immediate thoughts reaching out to his family. His brother, his nephew – where were they? Safe, he hoped, but he could not be certain, not when he could hear the clashing of steel and iron so close by it rang in his ears, but no matter where he looked, he could not see the danger, only hear it and see the ruins left behind by it. He could not help but wonder how so much destruction could have happened in such a short span of time.

“Oikawa!” A voice shrieked at him, and he turned just as someone ran to his side, the short brunette boy freezing in place as he saw the blood staining his clothing. “You…you’re injured!”

“Yahaba?” Oikawa looked at him, reaching a hand up to grab his shoulder and squeeze it tightly. Yahaba was one of the wards of the southern kingdom, having returned with Iwaizumi along with several others in his company. It was a relief to see him, as they had always had pleasant talks in the past. Running up to his side was none other than the tall Kyoutani, his armour stained in blood that dripped from the plates while Yahaba remained unscathed. “What happened here? How did this happen? Tell me!”

“I don’t know, there was a scuffle outside the arena, and then- I don’t know.” Yahaba fumbled for the details, clearly he didn’t understand what had happened.

“Those scummy knights following Ushijima led the assault.” Kyoutani snarled, his voice gruff and scratchy, as if it had been unused for a long time. “They attacked the arena. More of the bastards are coming from the south. That blonde guard took the king and the little one away.”

“The blonde one?” Oikawa questioned, his heart beating hard in his chest. If they were gone…

“He means Mizoguchi!” Yahaba quickly interjected before Oikawa began to worry more. “I saw them leave the tournament grounds. But you can’t stay here, we need to leave, now!”

“No…” For a moment Oikawa was ready to agree, it was the sensible thing to do. But knowing his family had fled, his thoughts now drifted to the fate of his friends. “I need to find Iwaizumi and the others. We can’t leave without them here.”

“You _can’t_ stay!” Yahaba insisted, daring even to reach and grab Oikawa’s arm as he began to turn away.

“I will not leave them…!” Oikawa hissed as he yanked his arm away from Yahaba and glared at him. Yahaba looked taken a back, and Oikawa looked away for a moment, returning his gaze with a softer look. “Kyoutani, give me your sword. The two of you will go and wait by the western waterfront – at that riverbank with the heavy brush. I’ll meet you there with the others. Try to gather a few horses, or else we’ll be walking.”

“Are you insane?” Yahaba couldn’t believe his ears, but Oikawa’s expression was cold and hard. “We can’t leave you, who knows how many fighters are out there, you don’t have armour, and you’re _bleeding_ for god’s sake!”

“I wasn’t asking.” Oikawa said the words firmly, leaving no room for argument, and Yahaba pursued his lips tightly, and Oikawa could see the way his hands balled into fists and trembled. He may not have been a ward of the north, but Oikawa had always been kind to him and they respected one another. It must have troubled him, more than Oikawa could know in that moment, to receive an order than would go against what was truly the right thing to do.

Lowering his head in defeat, Yahaba remained silent, and Oikawa turned to Kyoutani who reluctantly handed over the sword at his waist.  Kyoutani was a strong fighter, even without a blade. Oikawa knew he would manage and protect Yahaba at the same time. With a brief nod of his head, Oikawa turned away as he began to make his way towards the arena, hoping he was going the right way as he ran through the pitched tents, many of them catching fire and burning quickly, others toppled or wobbling in a wind that was being to pick up.

He did his best to keep within the thick of the smoke, covering his mouth and nose as he crouched and kept low to the ground to breathe as best he could. He could hear the fighting, much closer, much more animated and intimidating, and through the smoke he could vaguely make out the outlines of people, of swords and shields and the bodies lying on the ground. He skirted around the small brawls in the area that was quickly turning into a battlefield. He did not want to think of the innocents who may have been caught in the middle of it.

Eventually he came to an area where the fighting was thinning and ran across the open clearing between the tents and a series of stands, but skidded to a halt as he looked to his left and saw a familiar sight, one that troubled him and made his blood chill.

Kunimi, who stood surrounded on nearly all sides, held up his hands in defence as the armoured foes crept closer, inch by measly inch. He didn’t have a weapon of any kind, and yet the still pursued him, nearly half a dozen men. Oikawa could only think of them as cowards. Kunimi was his ward, he was under his protection, and he’d be damned if he stood by and allow those brutes to butcher him, try as they might. As Oikawa raced at the men from behind to lunge into the fray, they jumped at Kunimi, who deftly avoided their blades as if it were child’s play, muttering to himself in a dead language that few could understand as the air trembled and wavered around him. Oikawa spun himself around as he sliced the back leg of one of the knights, bringing the armoured man to his knees as he swung the blade wide once more, the steel slashing across the knight’s chest plate and knocking him back, but leaving him alive as he fell to the ground.

Oikawa drifted to the centre of the circle the surrounding knights had created, pressing his back to Kunimi’s as he held up the sword in his defence, twisting the hilt in his hand as Kunimi finished uttering harsh and guttural words in that soft voice of his. He raised his hands, the long sleeves of his coat slipping to reveal pale arms marred by scars and burns, and the air trembled once more only to be ignited with a sharp flick of his wrists and a click of his fingers. Magic surged through the air, wildfire flaring into existence and seeking out the enemies that stood before them, the fire burrowing under their armour and clinging to their skin as they screamed and cried out in agony.

Standing alert until the last man fell to his knees, the screams finally silenced, Oikawa lowered the blade, unafraid of the men caught in a blazing hellfire. He grabbed Kunimi’s wrist and tugged on it hard as he pulled him away and out of sight behind the stalls where they could hide for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” Oikawa asked him quickly, touching Kunimi’s shoulders as he looked him over once, twice, and saw the blood on his coat but no wounds on his person. He was relieved, but only somewhat. Kunimi told him he was fine, and was ready to ask Oikawa the same as his eyes were drawn the growing red stain on his shirt, but Oikawa spoke over him. “Do you know where the others are? Did you see them at all?”

“Iwaizumi went to find you after Ushijima’s knights attacked the arena. Kindaichi and I were going to find you both when Kyoutani rushed off, but I got separated from him.” Kunimi hesitated to explain. As he spoke, he looked away from Oikawa, his gaze venturing between the stall gap to stare at the bodies lying on the ground, utterly engulfed in bright flames. With a brief wave of his hand and a short word breathed out hastily, the flames vanished, and he slouched his shoulders. Oikawa could see the exhaustion on his face, the way his eyes were becoming bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. It would not be wise for him to exert himself for much longer.

“What about Matsukawa? And Hanamaki? Did you see them at the arena? Did they leave?” Oikawa’s voice was becoming frantic. Yahaba and Kyoutani had said the attacked began at the arena, and Kunimi said the same.

“I didn’t see them…” Kunimi replied honestly, his voice quiet as he dreaded to say the words. Oikawa felt a sharp ache in his heart, a twisting pain, but forced it to the back of his mind. He could not allow himself to waver, not now.

Not yet.

“We need to find them, and then we need to go. Yahaba and Kyoutani are waiting for us, at the western waterfront.” Oikawa explained, his breath coming in short and quick huffs as the adrenaline flowed through his veins. “Can you keep going?”

“I don’t think so…” Kunimi murmured but rose to his feet, a weak and fragile smile breaking across his face. “But we have to go, right?”

“Yeah. We do.” Oikawa stood with him, giving him one last worried look before resigning himself to the task at hand.

Taking a brief moment to adjust his grip on the bloodied sword he held, Oikawa peeked around the edge of the stalls that had not yet been scathed by the flames and waved to Kunimi as he slid around the corner and jogged at an even pace across the dirt path as the sun was finally swallowed by the horizon, leaving the sky dark and red and alive with the flickering embers that were caught in an upwind of smoke.

They searched hurriedly, drawn to the sound of fighting but keeping far from it at once, not wishing to engage if they did not have to. When they saw people fighting, they tried their best to identify the people within the shadows, waiting for the light of a flame to dance across their face before moving on. Worry began to seed itself deep in Oikawa’s stomach, it became rooted there as it twisted and gnawed away at his insides, spreading through his entire being. A sharp ringing echoed in his mind, bouncing off his skull, and for a moment he felt faint before composing himself, doing his best to ignore the pulsating sound.

They continued forward, until a shadow burst out of the smoke from a stack of burning debris, leaping towards them, the shining steel of a spear tip catching the light of a flame. Oikawa pressed his hand to Kunimi’s shoulder, shoving hard against him as he himself backed up, trying to evade the attack. The person was quick and light on their feet, spinning as they landed barely a metre away and twisted the spear in hand. They thrust it forward once more as he turned and Oikawa was not quick enough to evade it that time. The spear tip pierced the flesh of his thigh, slicing through it as metal scratched against bone and exited the other side of his leg, blood spilling onto the earth as Oikawa cried out in pain, his hand grabbing onto the shaft of the spear and holding it tightly.

His attacker did not flinch away, instead, they applied more forced, pushing the spear slightly lower and twisted it, and Oikawa emptied his lungs in a throaty scream as he lowered himself to the ground, no longer able to hold his own weight up. Saliva dripped from his lip as he sucked in air, his teeth grinding hard as his body shook, and he lifted his head to see Kunimi standing by, frozen with his eyes wide in shock as Oikawa stared up at him from under the dark dishevelled curls that fell in his eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Oikawa spied movement, and turning his head saw the glimmer of orange flames bouncing off dark black armour as it licked the air. Others were drawing in. Oikawa jerked his head back to Kunimi, unable to speak, only able to utter a growl of pain as he shuddered once more when the shaft of the spear was rolled in his wound, the knight in dark armour standing over him, ensuring he did not get up.

He hoped the stern look he gave Kunimi was enough to tell him to flee. He had to, now, while he could, before he became boxed in. Oikawa didn’t know what look was on his face, but whatever it was, it made Kunimi’s frozen expression twist, his eyes narrowing and becoming glassy as his lips quivered, taking a quick step back and spinning on his heel to escape. Oikawa felt relief for only a moment before he heard a sharp skidding noise and cocked his head around to see Kunimi step back into his line of sight, backing up further. Pain shot through his neck as Oikawa twisted to look far over his shoulder to see what obstructed Kunimi. More foes wearing that dark shining armour, glinting in the light of fires, some of them dripping with blood as they approached with every intent to kill.

“Will you die a pointless death, there in the muck with your worthless pride…” Ushijima’s voice brought Oikawa’s gaze forward once more, and his teeth ground together as he all but snarled at the prince who came to a halt before him, holding in his hands that crown that had fallen from Oikawa’s head, the edges of it smeared with the blood that was on Ushijima’s fingertips. Oikawa held onto the spear shaft still piercing his thigh, the wood shaking with the tremors that racked his body. “Or will you stop this spiteful struggle and do something with purpose?”

After several long seconds of silence, Oikawa could not help but laugh. The act burned his throat, scratching against the roof of his mouth as he wheezed. Even now, he was so conceited, so sure of himself that Oikawa was bend to his will. He may be on his knees, but he refused to bow his head to him. Ushijima only narrowed his brows, unimpressed by his defiance.

“I won’t die today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. I’ll live a hundred years if I have to. I’m going to live and carry that so-called _worthless pride_ of mine until…” Oikawa lifted his gaze slowly, a maddening glint to his eyes, the pupils wide and dilated as something dark glinted within, something violent and depraved. “Until the day I rip your heart from your chest and spit on your corpse, you deceitful coward.”

For a moment, a mere moment, Ushijima was startled by that look in his eyes. Eyes that were such a dark brown that in the dim light he could not distinguish the pupil from the iris, and it made Oikawa seem almost inhuman, his low and growling voice only enhancing that demonic appearance. With a resigned sigh, Ushijima dropped the crown, the metal ringing faintly as it collided with the ground and rolled away to become stained with soot and dirt. Ushijima raised his hand to his hip, unsheathing his sword one more time, the blade no less sharp as he stepped forward to press the tip of it against Oikawa’s neck, drawing blood as it just barely nicked his flesh.

“Then die.” Ushijima all but whispered the words, rolling his shoulder back to sink his arm low and bury the sword through Oikawa’s body. Oikawa did not blink, nor did he flinch. He held Ushijima’s gaze steadily, sweat dripping down the side of his face and off his chin as he breathed out, each breath of air burning his lungs.

It was sudden, a split fraction of a second was all it took, and the death Oikawa had expected was denied to him. When Ushijima’s blade had pulled just an inch away from Oikawa’s throat, a silhouette leapt from the shadows, a sword arching low but wide, and it connected with Ushijima’s sword with such a brutish force that the man himself was knocked back in surprise, not having expected the attack.

Oikawa dipped his head low, grimacing as the spear was suddenly ripped from his thigh and a voiceless scream left his throat, low and animal like in its rasping cry, and his ears began to ring with the sound of metal bouncing off metal. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and hauling him up to his feet, an act that made him stumble and cry out in pain once more as he put weight onto his injured leg, his knees buckling and threatening to make him fall to the ground again.

Voices shouted and merged together in the fray, and the air felt hot and stifling all of a sudden, suffocating even, and the earth cracked and trembled under their feet as someone dragged Oikawa off. When Oikawa was able to lift his head, he could see Iwaizumi at his side, trying desperately to sling Oikawa’s arm over his shoulder and support his weight as he hurried away, shouting words that Oikawa could not hear properly. Blood dripped from a gash on his head, almost blinding him in one eye as the thick red liquid dropped from his eyelashes and fell down his cheek when he blinked, but it did not seem to bother the southern prince the slightest. Oikawa’s heart squeezed tightly, the relief that Iwaizumi was alive so immense that he felt dizzy.

He could not see the others well in the dark, but he could hear the all too familiar voices shouting and screaming as a fight occurred not too far away. But Iwaizumi was hauling him away, away from the battle, and it angered him. He should fight…fight until his last, until he had no more to give.

But the way Iwaizumi’s hand was so tightly clinging to his wrist, his pulse beating hard and fast under his fingertips, was the simplest assurance Oikawa needed in that moment. If he died there, what point would there be in his declaration to avenge himself and those that had suffered in this place?

With his vision blurring, Oikawa knew sooner or later he would lose consciousness – likely sooner as he became more aware of the warm feeling of blood dripping down his leg and seeping into his boot. Iwaizumi moved him much like a doll, careful despite his haste to guide Oikawa onto the back of a waiting horse. Matsukawa sat ready in the saddle, reaching down to haul Oikawa onto his lap and keep him there as the horse neighed and reared up slightly, distressed by the fires dancing around it. Oikawa’s hands clung weakly to Matsukawa, his gaze following Iwaizumi as Kyoutani ran to his side, his short blonde hair discoloured by blood, and handed him the reins to a horse that trotted behind him.

In the last fleeting moments of his consciousness, Oikawa could hear Iwaizumi barking orders at everyone to retreat back to the castle, and Oikawa jolted with a heavy lurch again and again as the thoroughbred Matsukawa rode galloped through the path littered with the dead and debris. The air whipped around them, hot and scathing as they fled the tournament grounds and escaped into the darkness of the night with their lives.

And as Oikawa drifted unconscious, he felt a burning heat in his chest, a desire to return the blood shed that day a hundred – a thousand – times over, even if each step toward that goal reduced the world around him to ash and ruin.


	4. The Long Night

Iwaizumi’s memory was a haze. The castle estate had been in complete anarchy by the time they returned. Guards and soldiers flocked the courtyards and main entrances, rallied by their commanders, and they marched out to secure certain locations of their kingdom in force. They had just barely managed to return before the portcullis had shut, the horses they rode in on restless as they trotted in place when they came to a halt in the grandiose courtyard, the rush of servants and guardsmen all around unsettling the bridled beasts.

When all became quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, Iwaizumi tried to remember what had happened when they got back. They had been so frantic when they had returned, he could not recall much.

There was a moment, however, that had stood out among the rest. Like a raw wound, it ached whenever it came to mind. When they had found a small area to dismount in upon their return, he had all but thrown himself from his horse as he had hurried to where Matsukawa had come to a halt. He had been ready to hear Oikawa whine at him for having been carried like a child or for some other equally pitiful reason no doubt.

But he heard nothing, save for the quiet whispers of servants who came to a standstill at the sight of their prince, bloodied and unconscious in Matsukawa’s grasp. His face looked pale, deathly so, and he feared how much blood he had lost from the wound on his thigh. The coat of Matsukawa’s horse was stained by the blood seeping from his wound, leaving it matted and dirty. He had little time to reflect on it though. Matsukawa had lowered the prince into his arms and began barking orders to the others who had followed them from the tournament grounds. Whatever Matsukawa had said had fallen on deaf ears however. Iwaizumi did not hear him as he carried his friend into the great halls of the castle, staring at the face that had been smiling at him so warmly that very morning.

What came next…it had happened all too quickly for him, in that state of shock he was in. He remembered laying Oikawa down in one of the many guest rooms, the first he could find unoccupied, and had been joined almost immediately by Hanamaki. Bloodstained but no worse for wear – or so he seemed at the time – Hanamaki hurried Iwaizumi out of the room, giving him a stern look that seemed unnatural on him. ‘ _You will not want to see him as he is_ ,’ Hanamaki had told him as several others entered the room, no doubt having been called upon by Hanamaki to aid him.

Iwaizumi had been left outside in the hallway. He remained there for...he didn’t know how long. It could have been for hours; he had not been counting. He knew someone had come to check on him, to see how things had been going. He thought it might have been Matsukawa, or Yahaba. He wasn’t sure.

His mind was utterly focused on the door that had been shut behind him as he was hurried out. Barely a few feet away, he could hear the sounds of shuffling movement, and at times, the sound of a hoarse, guttural cry of pain that echoed in his mind even now, so many hours later.

He could not help himself. Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder, staring down at the northern prince who lay bedridden, one side of his face illuminated by the soft golden glow of a dying candle resting by the beside. He looked almost peaceful. Were it not for the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and the small stains of blood that hadn’t been properly washed away from his skin, he might have even believed all that had occurred that day had been some elaborate hoax.

Iwaizumi forced himself to look away. The sight of the bandages infuriated him for reasons that seemed childish in the scope of what had happened. He knew he should not blame himself. Truly, there had been no way to know what would have transpired, he told himself that as often as others had tried to say to him when they come to visit the resting prince.

But in the back of his mind, the words echoed, poisonous as they buried deep in his heart.

‘ _I could have done more._ ’

‘ _I should have protected him._ ’

‘ _He could have died, and I did nothing._ ’

‘ _He could have died…_ ’

He glared at his feet, his teeth gnashing as he tried to force the thoughts from his mind. Once more, he looked over his shoulder at Oikawa through narrowly squinting eyes, reminding himself that he was still there, still alive. He released a shaky breath and looked away once more to bury his head in his palms, a vain attempt to still the shaking of his hands. Iwaizumi could not count how many hours he had spent sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to open his eyes so that he could chastise him for his recklessness. He needed to ask him some important questions as well. There were a hundred things he needed to know, the first being what had happened between him and Ushijima, just before the assault had begun. It had been eating away at him, slowly but surely.

The room was utterly silent, so much so that any time he shifted, he thought the sound loud enough it would wake Oikawa before he was ready. When he became too restless, he would look back over his shoulder and down at Oikawa, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, listening to the soft breathes passing cracked lips. It would calm him for the briefest moment, knowing he had not yet…

The heavy creaking of the door opening startled him, his head jerking around towards the sound. Hanamaki did not look at him as he shut the door behind him, slowly approaching the bedside and staring down at Oikawa just as Iwaizumi had been not a moment ago.

“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asked in a hushed whisper, his voice cracking as he had not spoken for a while.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I might come check on him.” Hanamaki replied as he raised both his hands to rub the back of his neck. In the dim light, Iwaizumi just barely noticed the bandages wrapped around his forearms and wrists, and the spots of blood that littered the white fabric in strange patterns. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I am resting.” Iwaizumi said the words stiffly and dropped his head to look at his feet. He didn’t have to look at Hanamaki to know he was rolling his eyes and making an irritated face, and for good reason.

He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew damn well he should be asleep, that he should rest and be prepared for the worst.

And yet he could not bring himself to leave Oikawa’s side.

“Mind moving your royal arse so I can check his wounds?” The biting tone of his words told Iwaizumi it was less than a request, and he reluctantly stood from the edge of the bed to give Hanamaki some space.

Iwaizumi watched quietly as Hanamaki pulled back the thin blanket that had been covering Oikawa and quickly busied himself with removing the bandages on his thigh. They had concluded earlier that the wound on his chest was relatively superficial in comparison to that of his leg, though it still needed tending. They had cut the pant sleeve of his trousers to allow them to access the injured area without stripping him bare of his pants and Hanamaki unwrapped the bandages, the fabric becoming more red than white as he stripped away the layers.

The wound itself had been cleaned and stitched though it still bled somewhat, and Iwaizumi glared at it, regretting that such an injury had befallen him. Every now and then, his skin twitched, piecing itself back together ever so slowly, shrinking in size but looking no less painful. There were few healers in their kingdom, and the few they had were only beginning to learn the art as what little information they gathered required much trial and error when put into practice.

“Isn’t it taking too long to heal?” Iwaizumi asked, his brows furrowing together in concern.

“We’re lucky it’s healing at all, considering that stunt we pulled to get him away from Ushiwaka.” Hanamaki spoke through a yawn towards the end – it was a wonder Iwaizumi could just barely understand what he had said. Taking a second look at him, Iwaizumi could see the dark circles under his eyes. Whether out of simple worry or exhaustion, he didn’t know. Maybe it was both. He should be grateful, nonetheless. Hanamaki had expended a lot of energy that day, it was a wonder he was still awake and continuing to help Oikawa.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you, by the way.” Iwaizumi mumbled softly as Hanamaki replaced the bloodied bandages with clean ones that had been set aside ready to be applied later.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hanamaki hummed the words, turning towards Iwaizumi with a sharp smirk as he rolled up the stained bandages neatly. Iwaizumi looked at him quietly, listening to his words, a small smile breaking through the sullen look that had captured his face all day. “Ushiwaka was foolish to have his men set so many fires on such a windy day. A firestorm was inevitable; don’t you think?”

Had it not been for Hanamaki, they would not have had the cover necessary to flee. Very few knew that Hanamaki possessed skills that were beyond that of an average person – he was like Kunimi, one of the rare people able to manipulate the unseen forces of the world, though he did so with far more confidence, albeit with much more secrecy – and for reasons that even Iwaizumi had not entirely been privy to. When Iwaizumi had met with him on the tournament grounds along with Kindaichi and Matsukawa, they had been quick to go about trying to find Oikawa, searching the grounds near his private tent before moving on as the light faded.

Had Yahaba and Kyoutani not disobeyed Oikawa’s orders and returned to the field to find the others, Iwaizumi was certain the northern prince would not have gotten away with his life, considering the state they had found him in. Iwaizumi had been fortunate to come across them, and while the two had been able to lead their small group to the last place Oikawa had been seen, it was not until they heard a familiar voice screaming out in pain that they knew what direction to take.

Hanamaki, in that moment, had disappeared from their group. Matsukawa cursed him fiercely as he followed Iwaizumi, claiming that the idiot was going to get himself killed sooner than he could help.

When they had found Oikawa…kneeling in a pool of his own blood, pinned down and glaring up at Ushijima defiantly…Iwaizumi hadn’t thought of what to do. He fully intended to fling himself before Oikawa, block the blow with his body if need be. He was lucky it did not come to that. The ground under Ushijima cracked and wavered, shaking him off balance just enough for Iwaizumi to strike a blow that would cast him back as the fires that licked the air drew closer to the dark armoured knights. It provided them enough time to haul Oikawa and Kunimi away and get far enough out of sight that they could escape.

Hanamaki had not joined them again until they had returned to the castle, and Matsukawa had been sick with worry every moment he had not been there. Matsukawa had been on the verge of leaving the castle itself to find him. If Kyoutani had not blocked his way and stared him down long enough for Hanamaki himself to ride through the gates, he likely would have. Iwaizumi had been too distracted to notice the blood that dripped from his head and down his shirt, not to mention the damning lacerations covering his arms. And even in that state, he had devoted his time to helping Oikawa, opting to tend to himself later.

Iwaizumi had not properly thanked him for it. And while Hanamaki might jest it would be nice to be appreciated from time to time, he never did the things he did to have another indebted to him.

“It’s a shame Ushiwaka wasn’t caught in that hellfire.” Iwaizumi sighed as he shifted his gaze to stare out the window, the sky heavy with thick, dark clouds, though there was a faint red glow that lingered far in the distance. The fires had not yet died.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Hanamaki said as he pulled the covers back over Oikawa’s lean frame, smiling to himself when Oikawa’s eyelashes twitched, beginning to flutter.

“I know that. It’s just-” Iwaizumi sighed heavily, unable to voice his thoughts. The animosity, no, the utter resentment Iwaizumi felt for Ushijima was tenfold what it had been before his little conquest at the tournament. The sound of the door swinging open once more made him turn around, expecting to see another form entering. Instead, Hanamaki was leaving. “What, not even a goodbye?”

Hanamaki paused in the doorway to cast a smug smirk at Iwaizumi over his shoulder, his expression scrunching up and becoming warmer as he slowly shut the door, not a word spoken in explanation of why he was leaving in the middle of their conversation. Iwaizumi scoffed, shaking his head and moved to walk around the bed to resume his seat on the edge of it.

It was not until he was ready to sit himself down that he noticed the way Oikawa twisted in place, his arms moving to his chest to hold it as he tried to sit up, eyes narrow and bloodshot.

“O-Oi!” Iwaizumi snapped the word sharply in as he laid a hand firmly on Oikawa’s shoulder, trying to be as gentle as he could as he laid him back down. “Don’t get up, you idiot, you need to rest.”

“Iwa-…H-Hajime…” His voice was utterly weak, soft spoken and dry as could be. Oikawa had trouble saying his name, and instead spoke his first name through a soft exhale of breath, the word much easier to say, despite how he stuttered it.

“I’m serious, lay down.” Iwaizumi wanted to curse him already. He had barely woken up and was already being troublesome. Oikawa’s hands reached out, latching onto Iwaizumi’s arms and clinging to the fabric of his shirt, stretching it as he leaned his weight against him, an act that made Iwaizumi freeze. “Hey, Oikawa, I mean it-”

“Y-you…you were hurt…” The words were muffled as Oikawa’s face was pressed to his chest, and Iwaizumi flinched slightly at the way Oikawa’s fingers dug into his skin, even through his shirt. Iwaizumi could not help but think of the gall he had to worry about others when he had been a hairs breadth away from death. It warmed his heart, and yet it infuriated him all the same.

“I’m fine, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi settled himself on the edge of the bed, sighing in defeat as he wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s shaking frame and squeezed his shoulder. It took a few reassuring squeezes for Oikawa to calm down, though his body still trembled. It must have hurt him to sit up like that, but it didn’t seem like he was going to lay down willingly, and even Iwaizumi wasn’t so cold as to beat him into his own bed to rest.

“What about my brother? And Takeru?” Oikawa began to mumble, almost to himself, asking if everyone was safe. Akio had come to visit him some hours ago, when he had a brief respite from the council demanding action against the army marching through their lands. Although Akio had remained composed in the brief moments he spent there, Iwaizumi could see the worry in his eyes, the fear that his brother might pass at any moment. The king had given him a silent, knowing look, a wordless appreciation for him remaining by his beside, before he left to return to the council.

“Everyone’s _fine_ ,” Iwaizumi sighed the words and pinched his shoulder, and Oikawa jolted in his one-armed embrace at the act as he made a quiet whinging noise. “You’re the one that’s causing everyone grief.”

“You’re mean…” Oikawa whimpered, his voice so quiet and tired he sounded almost like a child. It was fitting, given how he was acting. Despite himself, Iwaizumi allowed a foolish smile to tug at the corners of his lips as he dropped his head and rested it against the top of Oikawa’s closing his eyes as he pulled the prince closer to him, hugging him as tightly as he could without causing him pain. “Hajime…?”

“I’m glad you’re alive…” Iwaizumi didn’t mean to say the words. They were a thought aimlessly spoken aloud, though he didn’t regret voicing it in hindsight. He wanted to berate the idiot prince, curse him for all his childishness and reckless behaviour. But hearing him speak, feeling the warmth of his body, knowing that his heart was still beating – the relief that swept through him from these few simple things threatened to knock him over. He felt weary all of a sudden, the long hours he had stayed awake caught up with him in an instant, and he released a shaking sigh as he repeated the words one more time with more intent, as if reminding himself that it was not a lie he told himself to silence worrisome thoughts.

Oikawa said nothing in response, merely nuzzled his head against Iwaizumi’s chest as he made a content humming noise that was more akin to a whine, though that was more like him that anything else.

They remained like that for a long time, trapped in another’s arms, merely being thankful for another’s presence in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Tal, Makki-chan is fine~~ mostly. Mattsun probably isn't too happy though. I was tempted to continue this and have it end with some low-key MatsuHana but I thought it was better this way.
> 
> This is the last bit of birthday spam I have you for, hope your b'day has been swell! c:


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